


Smothered in an Alien Medium

by Ergoemos



Category: Magience
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Video Game World, Original Character - Freeform, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ergoemos/pseuds/Ergoemos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scylla is a young girl who is dying to play the latest and greatest game. Everyone's been raving about the game Magience, a fantasy game built into a headset that is so real that the players have trouble discerning where the fantasy ends and reality begins in the magical land of Riariti. Every character even gets a unique entry into the game, taking over the life of an NPC of Riariti. There's a big problem for Scylla, though. Because the game is so visual, she's not allowed to play the game due to a serious medical condition. But Scylla has a plan, and she tries to get away with signing in and starting a character using her brother's headset.  Scylla signs in, and creates a Merfolk character named Frazil. Eager to start, she jumps in to her game as soon as she's done, hoping to play some before her brother gets out of his morning shower.</p><p>This is not Scylla's story.</p><p>Frazil was minding her own business, exploring a nearby coral patch, when suddenly the world vanished around her in rapid haze, and she found herself with legs, on dry land, with a boy who claimed to be her brother shouting at her for playing some game. Submerged in air, Frazil now has to figure out what is going on in this alien world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smothered in an Alien Medium

_“Damnit, Frazil, keep up! Mom and Dad are going to get onto us again if you get lost again looking for another lost civilization.”_

_The water around me seemed to press in closer, denser and it was harder to swim than it should. I swallowed shaking my head and trying to hand-signal my distress. I was having trouble seeing my younger sister, Jetstream, always mindful of me getting lost. Right now, though, I appreciated it because everything felt strange. I shook my head, sputtering out, “I don’t… I need to rest, I don’t feel good.”_

_The water I lived and breathed in didn’t distort my words, I was just slurring that badly. I felt arms weakly pull myself to the ocean bed below us, but gravity was working just as well, as my tail was no longer propelling me forward, and I found myself caught in a lower current. My sister continued shouting at me. I couldn’t understand, but I think she was growing more alarmed._

_Something was shaking me? I couldn’t tell for sure. It was all so dark. Oh I hope I didn’t get caught by creature, and they were eating me. That would be unfortun-_

“WARNING! Removing the headset could-” flashed before my eyes before the world was pulled from from my head as I felt a voice yell imperative, “Scylla! Goddamnit I told you not to play with my Magience headset! You should be taking your meds!”

I blinked away the mugginess I felt pressing the outer edges of my mind, but the brightness of the room was throwing me off. The air was thin too, and I couldn’t feel my gills.

The room- room?- around me was all angles and walls, like it was built by a biped-surfacer race, and appeared to be lit by bright strips of light along the ceiling. Too bright. My head pounded. I didn’t register the words as anything sensible. I found myself sitting in a biped-chair and- gods and demons, I had legs.

I sucked in breath, as if I was above the surface, and realized I wasn’t underwater. I looked around, alarmed and terrified, my eyes latching onto the only other person in the room.

He was a tall male biped, he appeared damp and was wearing only a towel. He looked a lot like an Elf, without the pointed ears and a little broader. He was holding some sort of heavy tiara or a headband, what I assumed was pulled from my face.

He seemed to register my alarm, but didn’t understand why I was so freaked out, as he continued to yell, quietly, as if trying not to shout, “Yeah, I caught you. Mom would be so furious if she saw you using my headset. What if it set off another one of your episodes!? Did you think of that? Come on!”

He grabbed at my arm, about to haul me out of the seat before pausing, looking the slighty more sympathetic, “Listen, I know you hate it, but let's go take your meds. They suck, but I don’t want to find you like last time.” His voice cracked a little at that last bit, and I was taken aback by the emotion. “I don’t want to lose my little sister, alright?”

I did not know what was going on in the least. I had no brother. I wasn’t even a biped. I looked down at his arm on mine and found that my skin was far paler, and whiter, than I expected it to be.

Was this some sort of dream? Dad’s visions sometimes made him feel like he was experiencing someone else’s life. He never described being a round-eared elf though. Gods, did my head pound.

Seeing that this person- my brother?- was becoming agitated again, I got up and followed him out of the room as he pulled me, gently, through a few corridors. It was easier than resisting, and I was having a hard enough time breathing all this thin air. Everything was smooth and grey and the light stripes in the ceiling lead the way down a hallway. I was about to ask something, when I heard him mutter, “I can’t believe you skipped your morning pills to try that game out while I was in the shower.”

The next room had another bed and some dressers and a bureau. Everything was softer colored here, even the light strips and the walls. There was a poster or a flyer or something on one wall that I didn’t have time to study, as the person who claimed to be my brother sat me in the chair in front of the bureau. He jabbed his finger at a white piece of vellum or paper that was apparently attached to the large mirror above the bureau.

My eyes focused on the paper, which seemed to have three different lists. They each had titles, “Morning”, “Lunch” and “Night”. The words swum a little in my vision, but I think it was more the pain behind my eyeballs than anything else. I was grateful that this room was dimmer than the rest of the building I had seen.

I hesitated, and he motioned, “Come on, take your morning pills. I will watch you. This is your first day back in school and I don’t want to get a call from the nurse.”

I looked back at the list. Frowning, I looked down at the bottles that were placed on the bureau before me. I picked one up, and it had some unfamiliar name on the front, ‘Levetiracetam’ along with some numbers and other information I had no idea how to read.

I glanced back at the list for ‘Morning’ and saw that ‘Levetiracetam’ was indeed on the list as ‘Levetiracetam - Anti-Convulsant- 1 Pill’. I looked back down at the bottle and back at my brother, before starting, “But I don’t-”

My voice was soft and high, not familiar to me at all, but the ‘brother’ interrupted, “No ‘Buts’. I will get you a glass of water. Start laying out your pills.” He walked away, but his tone brokered no interruption.

I swallowed, and looked down again at the dozen or so bottles of pills. What in the gods’ name was going on? Was this a future-dream, like dad got occasionally? What the hell?

Still, dad always said that you did not try to argue with dreams, even normal everyday dreams. It wasn’t healthy and they bite back harder when you try to. I never told him I controlled my dreams easily ever since I was young though.

This one, however, did not want to morph into my usual, comfortable world of flying and putting on illusion shows for an entire town to their showering applause. The air was still too thin, and the world too sharp and bright, even in this dimmed room.

Deciding not to argue with the dream before me, I decided to start opening pill bottles and laying out the pills as directed in the ‘Morning’ list. It took me a moment to figure out how to open the bottles, even though the instructions on top clearly stated, ‘Push and turn to Open.’

An Anti-seizure pill, an anti-depressant pill, an anti-anxiety pill, an anti-inflammatory pill, two anti-nausea pills, an anti-migraine pill, a high blood pressure pill and several vitamins and minerals including, of all things, ‘Iron’.

Where in the world of Riariti am I, that they give people iron as medicine? Was I even in Riariti? everything looked to be made of unfamiliar material, even the bottles, and even as I laid out the last pill, I noticed a lamp in the corner near the bed, which seemed to be made of metal too… bright and shiny to be aluminum.

Legends told of weapons and armor, artifacts of untold age, that shined a metallic, mirror bright. And only the richest in the world could afford Iron as a material, let alone as a mineral supplement.

And the mirror, behind the note, it was pristine, perfect glass without flaws or blemishes, I could even see-

“Here, Scylla, your water. I also brought you some oatmeal. I know you hate to eat with your pills but you have to.” I blinked, my thoughts interrupted and scattered even as I almost started to get a grip on everything that was happening.

The water and bowl were placed before me, and the man, who looked about my age and height, but had been a head taller than I when we were walking down the hallway, was now dressed, in a plain undershirt I’d seen some elves wear before, and some pants made of a blue material I didn’t recognize.

It looked like the same material I was wearing on my legs, and my shirt looked much the same, though I had a bra of some kind underneath, another biped-thing.

He was staring at me, what did he want? I didn’t… oh right. The pills. The water and oatmeal. I thought about asking a question, but I simply nodded- regretting the action after my head pulsed with another wave of angry heat- and started taking the pills with the water.

It was a good thing I spent a better half of a year with dad among some Trow tribal soothsayers, who were also into small pills of complicated magical healing when I was about twelve. Otherwise I might have tried to chew these bitter pills. Some of them even looked like they were powders, encased in some thin, dry film, or little bubbles of liquid.

Disturbingly, my body seemed to quail and rebel at the intrusion of these pills, and my head pound worse and worse for a moment. I considered protesting, but the brother seemed unyielding from his place at the doorway, his damp hair slowly drying into an unruly mess.

As my hands stopped shaking, my body slowly relaxing after the pills were done with, I swallowed again, asking, “What… what’s going on?” My voice was higher than I expected, and still weak. It shook, and I could feel my brain pulse again with that pain, the light brightened painfully for a moment.

“Eat your oatmeal.” His hard voice mustered no protest from me, as confused as I was, and I picked up the spoon he brought. The boy sighed, and he said, “You know what happened, Scylla. You know you just got out of the hospital. That grand mal seizure nearly killed you. I won’t let you play some game to risk another.”

I ate the food while I tried to puzzle out what he was saying. Seizures could be caused by some types of poisonous urchins and fish. Is that what happened? Why am I a biped then? And why does nothing look… real? Look right? What is everything made of? Even the bureau, it looked like it was made of wood, but it wasn’t. It was too even, too smooth. And the pattern clearly repeated several times. And the pill bottles were made of some flexible, semi-transparent material, like nothing I'd ever seen.

The brother sighed again, louder, and now he looked less stern and more guilty, apologizing, “I shouldn’t have been bragging about how fun Magience is to play to you and the parents at dinner so much. I am really sorry. I know, and you know, it is too dangerous to risk you playing in the world of Riariti.” I perked up, looking up at him sharply, though the sharp pain behind my eyes told me that I shouldn’t move so quickly, and my hand pressed against my grimacing face. “You can’t play the game. Who knows what it might do with your condition? It could fry something. I am sorry”

What? Riariti? I was from Riariti! I opened my mouth to ask, through the bright lights and pain, but he concluded, “Listen, I am going to finish getting ready. Finish your oatmeal and get your lunch pills ready, alright? Good thing we are both early risers.”

He abandoned me as I was left trying to figure out what the hell was going on. What did he mean, ‘playing in the world of Riariti’? What game was I supposedly playing? All I had was that headband thing before he started shouting at me…

Mom would have a few thoughts on this. She was an illusionist, and an artist of some renown, even out of the water. She was known for putting on shows that made people wonder what was real or fake, so much so that she’d been banned from performing in a few of the more conservative territories.

She always said, ‘The first motion to preventing the riptide of confusion from sweeping you away is to seize onto an anchor of what was unmistakably real.’

My head ached fiercely. My left forearm had a large shadow of a bruise, old and fading with time, that hurt to touch. My body’s skin was pale but with a tinge of brown to it. My legs were too short, let alone that I had legs.

The oatmeal was sweet, and warm, and tasty, for biped-food. I finished it quickly, as my senses seemed to slowly numb to the bizarre dream-world I find myself up in.

I finished eating the oatmeal, keeping my eyes closed to fight the bright light. It seemed to help, the pain slowly regressing.

What was real? I looked around the room again. It was small by my expectations of surface rooms, maybe three meters by five, and had a small bed, two sets of drawers and bureau with the mirror I was sitting in front of. One of the dressers was half open, revealing clothing that appeared to be stuffed into its every nook and cranny, full of more pants like the ones I was wearing and some sweaters, something I was only vaguely aware of during my stint as a biped.

I tried to cast a spell, muttering words that, were I underwater would burble pleasantly, but in air just sounded like little nonsensical barks. I did not feel the pull of magic. I couldn't sense any of it, like my mother taught me. I tried a few more spells. Nothing. Not even the fizzle that usually indicated a failed spell. Strange. Worrying. I distracted myself by thinking about more reality.

I looked back to the bureau, and remembered the mirror. Curiously, pulled the piece of paper from the mirror to stare into it.

The girl looking back at me was nothing like I should look like. The face I stared at had dark brown eyes and black hair, that reached past her shoulders. Her face had a fading bruise along one side, her left side, and my nose was narrow, my mouth small. She had short blocky white teeth and her skin was dusky all over, with no obvious patterns or changes. That same, softened, rounded Elfin look, but even rounder, as if tinged with bits of Fae or Trow, without the fur or tail. I look young, younger than my sister. I was- what? -somewhere between fourteen and seventeen. I wasn’t good at gauging surfacer ages.

I didn’t look like this. I… well, I shouldn’t look like this.

For the past twenty-three years of my life, I was a Samaki Mer, having spent most of my life traversing the coasts and tributaries of Easter Riariti with the school my parents. I had lightly blue tinged skin, with bands of dark blue and black along my body, which transitioned into proper scales around my waist. My sides had gills along them,and my tail fins were a little frilly, though mostly functional. Like my parents, I was a little small for a Samaki, but made up for it by being fast for my size. My teeth were sharper, smaller, and came in a couple rows. My eyes should be mostly black, with a ring of violet. My hair should match my deep blue stripes and fins, and it should shorn short, where I’d grab the largest lock every once in awhile and cut it off with a knife.

My parents hated when I did that and it wasn’t very Mer, but I was lazy and got my hair tangled on one too many coral outcroppings when looking for secret entrances to hidden civilizations under the water as a kid. I’ve outgrown that habit. Mostly.

The mounds of fat on my chest were relatively small, as a Samaki, which seemed reassuringly the same here, though I think they were actual breasts, from basic probing. I did determine that I definitely had nipples, when I had never had any before.

Holy hells, this- what?- This dream? This hallucination?... this place was weird. I think I was actually a mammal here, wherever ‘here’ was.

I decided to follow the script for now, because I was too confused to fight how disturbing all this was. My body seemed be hit with waves of queasiness, now that the food was finished, and I felt strange overall. My body didn’t quite seem my own, more literally than just in my mind, like some disassociation effect kept me from feeling all of my disorientation.

I swallowed down the feeling and began laying out the “Lunch” pills as directed too keep myself from focusing on the shakiness I felt, both physical and mental. I looked around and found an empty pill bottle without a label and slid the pile of pills- more of the same pills, less of others, some new ones mixed in. Definitely more anti-nausea pills. Whatever this body seemed to deal with, it seemed pretty averse to food. Either that, or the magic wasn't very potent. 

I noticed that I had socks on, which probably meant I needed to find shoes too. Ugh, surface clothing was confusing. So many layers. Personally, if the surface was so uncomfortable to live in without protection, I didn’t know why they bothered, except that most surfacers don’t have gills. Pretty good explanation, that. I giggled a little at my own thought. It was soft and high, but a familiar giggle all the same. I tried to not worry about how unhinged it might make me sound. 

I didn’t have gills anymore, either, which explains why everything seemed so… thin. So open. I remembered feeling like that when I first became a biped and it took days to get used to it. But it hits with just as much force in this second experience, this second weird dream life. And obviously magic worked differently here, so I couldn't even check my own status with magic.

Shoes. I found some underneath the bed. A couple pairs seemed to have a complicated set of strings on them, others were sandals, but also seemed to have straps that I didn’t understand. So I picked out a pair of shoes I could just slip on. No strings, no strangely sticking straps.

I think I figured out enough to survive next tidal wave. My headache was fading and my sense of being a fish out of water, while appropriate, wasn't pressing so hard against my senses as bad as when I first woke up to someone yelling at me. I was looking at the dressers, and spotted familiar things like brushes and makeup on top. I recognized them, even though I didn't use them myself, and since we weren't in water, I doubt the makeup was oil or grease based.

I also found a collection of stretchy frilly circles, and, not entirely of my own volition, I instantly grasped their purpose and began gathering my hair together before putting my hair into the _scrunchie_.

How did I know that name? How did I know it was to put my tie my hair?

Creepy, but that vague disassociation that seemed to grow kept me from panicking. The question pile was just getting higher and apparently my response was going to be feigned disinterest. Seemed safer than wholesale panic. I'd save that response in reserve, for when the reaction might be more spectacular. I did wonder if the grin growing on my face was a sign of that manic panic refusing to be completely contained.

Another thing I found, this one on the dresser near the bed, was a bound book with the words “Scylla’s Journal” on it. I did not know how I knew what the letters said. They weren’t the same letters that I knew were used anywhere on Riariti. More questions, less answers. But I was guessing that a journal of the person who possibly was me might be helpful.

I then realized my next predicament, pressing a lower than my head. I put the pills in my pocket, one good thing about clothing, and walked out of my room with the journal under my arm. I was afraid of letting it go now. It was probably a little irrational, it probably wouldn’t wander off, but I’ve lost more than a few things to the tide when I let of something and it washed away while I was distracted by something in the distance.

But right now, I was on a mission. Surface people usually had extra buildings for this, so I started looking around for the door to the outside. The same hallway, bright again, though the pain was diminished this time, and I wasn’t being dragged. I remembered the room that my ‘brother’ dragged me out of, on the same side of the hallway. I glanced into another room across from mine. it looked like a bigger bedroom, with a larger bed, though it was still a little cramped compared to the homes I’d seen in the normal world.

The next room was across from the boy’s room. His room was closed. I saw it, and immediately realized it was an Aethen-Style bathroom. But it was inside the house!

I couldn’t hold back in another giggle. Oh how bizarre! What did they do, run pipes through the house’s floor? What would they do if there was plumbing problems? Flood? I wouldn't mind, but surely bipeds usually like to remain dry.

Still giggling, I closed the door behind me, used to seeing several stalls worth of bathrooms in a row, the Aethen towns near the coasts where I lived most of my life had liked these large sanitariums, with sinks and baths and showers and, yes, even the toilet all in one place. I thought it was weird as hell at the time, but dad told us to always be respectful of other cultures.

A one-family indoor sanitarium. I couldn’t contain my giggles long enough to actually glance at the journal. When I stood up, the toilet flushed by itself, slick bit of magic, that, and I washed my hands. The feeling of cool water on my skin was comforting and while the water was magic-pure, I preened in the sensation of it.

I don’t know how long I stood there.

I was interrupted by the sound of my ‘brother’ or whoever he was, swearing, “Oh shit, we’re late! Scylla! Finish up in there. We got to get to class!”

I turned off the facet and left the room, the journal still under my arm. I followed the sound of my brother’s voice and got a glimpse at what looked- sort of- like a surface kitchen and a small relaxing room, before the boy who’d ripped my world from me- sort of, maybe- shoved a bag in my arms, saying, “Grab your book bag. You got your pills? Alright good lets go!”

I barely got time to nod and grab the bag’s handles before he dragged me out the front door.

I gasped with the sight of the outside world. Or, at least, what was outside the house.

Gods and hells, I really was not in Riariti anymore, was I?


End file.
